


dreams really do come true

by thesumofus



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesumofus/pseuds/thesumofus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate determines that Jeremy Clarkson and James May, instead of falling into careers and a franchise of a scale no one ever imagined are granted their 'dream jobs'. </p>
<p>Meaning, Top Gear never came to be, they never met one another and their lives lead entirely different courses.</p>
<p>But what's in store when these two men come to meet at an upmarket, corporate function. In every way they're not the Clarkson and May we know but essentially they are the same...</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreams really do come true

**Author's Note:**

> In light of recent events, (not so recent anymore I wrote this fic a while ago) I got on to thinking what if the boys never had their jobs at TG, which is the definition of a dream job, but instead had their original, 10 year old self, half a second of thought in it, dream jobs and what would they be and what would it look like and what would happen if they met each other and they all did something widely different.
> 
> I gave it some thought and decided that Hammond would end up on T.V anyway (I'm so right though) but what about the other two...
> 
> p.s I so so so wanted to make Clarkson a formula 1 racecar driver but deep down I knew he would then have to be fit and disciplined and Clarkson without a beer belly is not Clarkson at all.

Jeremy takes his third turn of the room. He really hates these strictly guess list only, pent house suite soirees. The furniture is special order, the clothes are designer still the people are no better than the pissed, lonely and desperate bunch you see filling the clubs on street level. At least in a club Jeremy would be able to chat up a man nondessgrassently, without it being that month's gossip. to be chewed over and over like a cow with a cud.

His double malt whiskey is starting to convince him that the night might not be so bad, when someone starts to play the piano. Jeremy bites back a shrewd laugh as he thinks how typical it is of a party like this not to play house music, which the guests are so urning for if only to have an excuse to touch a member of the opposite sex, but no. The hostess has deprived them of even that and now they must nod approvingly together and try to come up with, in their drunken states, introspective commentary of the piece being played. This thought fills Jeremy with glee and he finds a wall to lean on, accompanied by a fresh tumbler of whiskey pilfered from a serving tray and settles back to watch such proceedings unfold. He's not disappointed as phrases like "the effect of the music is nuanced..." and "see the thing about Bach is..." flitter back to where he stands at the back of the room. Yet soon, after an unsurprisingly short amount of time Jeremy's fellows run out of introspect and go back to organizing backhand business ventures and speculating upon who's wearing what. Disappointed, Jeremy swigs the remainder of his drink, shuts his eyes and lets the music take him.

It's a tentative piece, with playing to match. Quiet but filled with a surety that convinces you which note will come after the other. Jeremy's unsure if it's a sad or happy piece, such is the subtlety of its ambitus and the fickleness of the tempo. Slow then fast, soft then loud, keeping the listener guessing yet strangely, aptly taken by the notes. Jeremy, however is deprived the chance to find out the mood behind the music as it stops abruptly. This turn of events souring his mood just that little bit more, needed to tip his, usually impeccable judgement into getting absolutely sloshed. So he goes out in search of the bar to do just that.  
His plan is foiled however, when someone intertwines their bony arms with his, causing him to come to a halt.

'Jeremy!' Jeremy is suddenly met with the surreptitious grin of this weekends pent house hostess, Caprice Bourray

'Evening Caprice. You look stunning, as ever.' Says Jeremy dutifully, pecking each side of the woman's face, as such women revel to do.

Caprice just smiles her enticing, unchanging smile back and proceeds to drag Jeremy across the room all while saying,

'Jeremy darling over here you must meet our ambiance provider for this evening.'

He is soon deposited immediately in front of an unassuming yet contented man. Jeremy, well aware of Caprice's match-making tendencies gives her a warning look, which she ignores to finish her introduction,

'The very talented and very eccentric, James May.'

Jeremy gives the man a look over. He's mopped-haired, wearing a rather smart jacket with an appalling floral shirt and genial eyes. Claws travelling across his back and a wet kiss on his cheek signals his hostess's exit as the newly introduced man gives him a checked, awkward smile.

'Ambiance provider? Prestigious roll.' Jeremy offers the man, while he'd much rather be getting another drink.

'Well yeah, I actually was invited in the hope that I was to be a guest but I'm not the best at mingling or thinly veiled insulting as it largely ends up being so I thought I'd just sit it out at the piano.' he answers benevolently

Jeremy finds himself pleasantly surprised over the interesting nature of this man, expecting a camp, exuberant and 'life of the party' type figure after hearing Caprice's title for him.

'Oh, that was you playing earlier?' His mind makes the connection

'Yeah it was, until our lovely hostess practically tore me from the stool. Apparently baby grands are supposed to obstruct the flow of a living space and hold champagne flutes, not be played.' says the other man cheekily, in a mock prestigious manner.

'Well like a supermodel they're beautiful and expensive the fact that they have a use besides remains to be seen.' Jeremy replies boldly, wanting to test the repertoire of his new acquaintance.

'Unless it's sex.' He replies in a beat, to Jeremy's delight.

'Fair point. So do you have many supermodels obstructing your living space then?' Jeremy asks, with a raised brow. He truly didn't warrant his brain to start flirting the words just seemed to escape on their own accord.

'No, I'm not sure my cat would go in for that. I'm a lowly bachelor, as are the best composers.' he barks a laugh.

'What was your name again?' the word composer sparks Jeremy to question.

'James May.' He replies with good enough nature to not pretend to be offended

'James May the composer? Ah okay many things are making sense.' Jeremy nods with faux solemnity.

Of course he had heard of James May, the fresh and exciting composer for the modern era. He may have even of heard him play one time but Jeremy couldn't be sure.

'Yes, and what is it you do, um..." James falters

'Jeremy.' who comes to his aid 'I'm the CEO of an engineering firm, 'Power engineering inc.', exciting stuff, I know.'

'Oh, you did the strengthening of the millennium bridge!' James emits enthusiastically

Jeremy pauses, not so used to having his work noticed.

'Yeah that was me, well not personally all I really do is sign releases and put smaller contractors out of business.' Jeremy sees James' smile fade at his words so he hastily adds 'You followed that did you.'

James looks at him carefully before replying 'Yeah, well it sticks out... actually, I remember now, a paper quoted you! What did you say? That's right you were quoted saying that really the only way to improve it was to add a lane for cars and the journo got the wrong end of the stick and there was a bit of an uproar as people started thinking a highway was being built right through St Paul's'

'Right, yeah not one of my finer moments' Jeremy admits

As James stares back at him fondly Jeremy identifies a sensation not unlike familiarity enter his brain and decides to pursue this further. 

 

* * *

 

Jeremy steals a couple of drinks from a waiter and decides he would rather fancy talking to this conundrum of a man some more. As smoothly as he can, Jeremy steers him across the room to a couch in the corner, using the drinks as a bit of a coax.

James rewards Jeremy with a dazzling smile as he rests into the leather clad cushion. The lights are dimmer in this part of the room. The main light source coming from the two sheer windows meeting in the corner of the building so that little beads of London's night life shine out of James' eyes. Jeremy decides he'd much like to kiss him but hands him a whisky instead.

'Did you always want to be a CEO of an engineering firm?' James asks him. His drunkenness allowing him to return Jeremy's keen gaze.

'Not really. I wanted to be an inventor though or a formula 1 race car driver.'

A smile fills the other mans face at this and a chuckle escapes causing a strand to fall across his eyes only to be quickly tucked away to whence it came. Jeremy watches on with wonderment and open attraction.

'What about you? Did you always want to be a penis, no pianist sorry.'

This makes James laugh more as Jeremy hoped it would and he revels as many strands come loose from their lazily enforced restraint. James, still laughing, pushes his glass into Jeremy's care to employ two hands to sweep back his mane as he quietly replies,

'Yeah I rather did.'

'You play beautifully.' Jeremy says without really meaning to.

James looks down. His shoulders stiffening in discomfort as he mumbles out a thanks and reaches to take his drink back.

'What? You can't take a compliment?' taunts Jeremy holding out his arm, putting James' drink out of his reach.

James gives up trying to repossess his whiskey and looks up at Jeremy instead 'Only in regard to my piano playing, which is the only thing about me which warrants complimenting, ironically.' he confesses, with a barking, self-conscious laugh.

Jeremy looks at him long and hard. An argument brazenly taking place behind his eyes.

'So if I were to say that you were the most captivating person here tonight and the only one to catch my attention, that would be okay?'

James shrugs but his eyes are serious and searching as he says 'Yeah, that'd be fine.'

'And say, if I went on to say that you have, well there's no other word for it really, the prettiest blue eyes and that the turn of your lips when you smile does something untoward to my stomach?'

'Yeah, that would also be fine, yeah.' James manages to choke out while locked onto Jeremy's gaze.

'Right, good and what if I said that your hair looks so soft that all I can think about when I look at it is how it would feel through my fingers as I kiss you.'

'Yeah.' is all James manages as an answer.

'So, just no piano playing then?' ends Jeremy, smiling wickedly.

The break of the tension brings James bitter relief and he laughs and breathes out 'Glad we covered that so thoroughly.'

'Oh I'd hate to bring you any discomfort.' Jeremy says, winking

James would like to reply in kind. Be responsible for making this bold man blush. Yet, the words do not come to him nor does the courage so he asks instead 'Are you always this fore fronting with people you've just met?'

'Only if I think it may work in my favor.' Jeremy quips back honestly.

'And you think that it might?'

'Well I hate to be presumptuous but-'

'Oh, I find that hard to believe.'

'Well other people hate it when I'm presumptuous, for some reason, but yeah I think it just might.'

'Right that's good do know.' says James, thoughtfully.

'And are you going to confirm my assumption?'

'Well, I think things would work more in you favor if you hand me my drink back,'

Jeremy does so and watches as James downs it in one to continue talking

'and follow me to somewhere more private?'

Jeremy just nods, suddenly speechless at being proposed so outwardly by the quieter man, and stands up to fulfill what he hopes is a shared and equally desired outcome.

 

* * *

 

James finds himself in a small, darkened room, unsure how he got to be there only that Jeremy's hand rested on the small of his back as they exited and not very innocent thoughts flooded his mind.

These thoughts are interrupted by reality as Jeremy pushes him up against a wall and bears down on his neck, leaving warm, chaste kisses, what feels to James like everywhere. James reaches up to hold Jeremy's face in his hands and raises it so that they're face to face and he can kiss those lips which feel like they've dominated his mind forever, rather than a mere evening. Jeremy's eyes flitter down to James' own lips and before he has the chance to beg, kisses him.

James lets out a small moan and Jeremy uses the man's brief lapse into pleasure to his advantage, deepening the kiss.

One kiss becomes two and two becomes eight and after that James no longer has the power to keep counting nor the desire too as long as the number becomes infinite.  
It might well be heading that way if they don't come to their senses soon and James is on the verge of suggesting a cab back to his when

'More of the same then?' a voice filters to them from right outside the door

The door separating them from the party opens and Caprice is suddenly there an empty wine bottle in hand and a look of pure glee on her face as she spots the pair of middle-aged men, embraced before her.

'James, be a dear and pass me another sav' asks Caprice after an awkward moment

James looks around, one hand still cuffed around Jeremy's neck. The dim light from the party beyond revealing that they are in fact inside a wine cellar. He finds the desired bottle passes it to Caprice and then squeezes his eyes shut, pulling himself closer to Jeremy.

With a clink of a bottle, a shut of a door and a "have fun boys" Caprice is gone and Jeremy and James moan, yet not so much in pleasure anymore.

Jeremy parts himself from James, who puts his head in his hand as he fills with dread and self doubt.

Things were so easier when all he had to think about was the lips on his, when a whole room of people didn't know what they were up to and when he had those arms around him. He wished he had the heat of the moment back and with it the confidence to ask Jeremy back home with him.  
In his distress he doesn't pay attention to what Jeremy is doing and looks up to the other man standing in front of Caprice's wine rack, a bottle in each hand.

'What are you doing' he asks

'I can't read this label, can you?' Replies Jeremy not answering his question and handing one of the bottles over.

'All I can tell in this light is that this wine is expensive.' assessed James squinting at the vintage in the dark.

'That's good enough for me.' Jeremy said, replacing the other bottle and slipping past James to the door 'Let's go.'

'Where are we going?' Asks James and hating the doubt in his voice.

He sees the silhouette of Jeremy's head, turn to face him and feels a hand rest on his waist.

'I believe you, me and Caprice's expensive wine have some unfinished business.'


End file.
